From Dream to Destiny

  Gastien: From Dream to Destiny

  By Caddy Rowland

  Book Description

  "I am Gastien Beauchamp, artist and lover. Any Frenchman would tell you that a peasant could never own property in nineteenth century France. Yet here I am, in my very own studio. The personal cost was horrendous. I barely survived the choices I made, and my sanity was pushed to its limits.

  Still, I finally now have security, peace, and freedom. For the rest of my life I can spend time "making love to the color", making love to beautiful women, and enjoying the wild nightlife of bohemian Montmartre. What more could a man need or want?

  Then, one night, I see her. One look at Sophie, and my heart wants to betray me! I try to tell myself that I know better. Who needs love, anyway? I am already married-to my art!

  No woman would ever understand and accept my lifestyle; nor am I about to give that lifestyle up. Not when I paid so dearly for it! Besides, I am too badly damaged to ever open up my heart...and if Sophie found out about my past she would not want to even know my name. I can't take that chance. I have had enough pain to last me a lifetime."

  This historical fiction novel is book 2 of a 5 book drama/family saga for adults (The Gastien Series). Each book can stand on its own, but is most compelling read in order.

  This book is dedicated to the color. You have always owned me. You always will.

  Author’s Note:

  If you have not yet read Gastien: The Cost of the Dream, please do so before reading this book. You cannot fully understand or empathize with the character of Gastien unless you read about his struggles when he first came to Paris, and what it cost him to achieve his dream. Please do not do him, or you, a disservice by not first reading that journey.

  Readers, Gastien has been anxious for you to know the rest of his story. Let’s not keep him waiting any longer.

  -Caddy Rowland

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  Table of Contents

  Author’s Note:

  Prologue

  19th Century Montmartre (1855-1899

  A Home at Last (September 1876)

  I

  II

  III

  IV

  V

  VI

  VII

  VIII

  IX

  Sophie

  I

  II

  III

  IV

  V

  VI

  VII

  VIII

  IX

  X

  XI

  XII

  XIII

  XIV

  XV

  XVI

  XVII

  XVIII

  XIX

  XX

  XXI

  XXII

  XXIII

  XXIV

  XXV

  XXVI

  XXVII

  XXVIII

  XXIX

  XXX

  XXXI

  XXXII

  XXXIII

  XXXIV

  XXXV

  XXXVI

  XXXVII

  XXXVIII

  XXXIX

  XL

  XLI

  XLII

  XLIII

  XLIV

  XLV

  XLVI

  A Very Bohemian Marriage

  I

  II

  III

  IV

  V

  VI

  VII

  VIII

  IX

  X

  XI

  XII

  XIII

  XIV

  XV

  XVI

  XVII

  XVIII

  XIX

  XX

  XXI

  XXII

  XXIII

  XXIV

  XXV

  XXVI

  XXVII

  XXVIII

  XXIX

  XXX

  Cause and Effect

  I

  II

  III

  IV

  V

  VI

  VII

  VIII

  IX

  X

  XI

  XII

  XIII

  XIV

  XV

  XVI

  XVII

  XVIII

  XIX

  XX

  XXI

  XXII

  XXIII

  The Dream Lost

  I

  II

  III

  IV

  V

  VI

  VII

  VIII

  IX

  X

  XI

  XII

  XIII

  XIV

  XV

  April 1899

  Epilogue

  Here is an excerpt from Tristan Michel: Bloodline of Passion:

  Books by Caddy Rowland

  Glossary

  Gastien: From Dream to Destiny

  NOTE: Glossary for all italicized words (can also be found in Table of Contents)

  Prologue

  April 1899

  Gastien came back to the present, brushing his hair out of his eyes. Looking out the large window, he realized that it must now be about eight o’clock in the morning. He had been lost in the past since five, while sitting here at his easel.

  All of it seemed ages ago! Yet, at the same time, it seemed like only moments ago he had been eighteen. How had twenty-five years gone by?

  The childhood beatings, leaving the farm for Paris, life on the streets; he could still smell the garbage in those alley bins. How fortunate he had been to end up with a dying mans money! If not for that stroke of fate, he would have died in those stinking back alleys before he had even gotten a real chance.

  Then there had been Nathalie. Gastien smiled fondly. It was easy to understand getting lost in the past when it came to Nathalie! She had taught him everything he needed to know in regard to pleasing women. She had been a fantastic lover and an even better confidant.

  He was thankful that she had understood that life with him was not what she was cut out for. Theirs had been a steamy relationship, but it was not something that would stand the test of time. Not when she was so privileged and he just an artist. Elliot was one in a million, excepting Nath and Gastien’s child as his own. Non, he did not regret anything about that situation.

  And, of course, Michel. Mic was still his best ami to this day. They had enjoyed Paris many nights, along with all of the antics so typical of young, single men. Mic had left for Montmartre a year before Gastien; then the rooming house where Gastien lived had burned down. Gastien was back to square one, living in a dump. Rent was going up, and he had run out of options.

  Jean Luc and his family had commissioned him for a year of painting just in time. Jean Luc had seemed like a godsend at first, becoming like a father to him. However, it had turned out much differently. Oui, he had ended up with this studio; and all the money he would need to live a reasonable life…but the price had been extremely high.

  First, Jean Luc had gained young Gastien’s love and trust by convincing him that Gastien was the son he had always wanted. Then, once he knew how much Gastien needed him, he had propositioned him. Jean Luc offered a ridiculous sum of money in exchange for sexual favors. At first, Gastien was horrified. But with the nightmares of living on the street becoming so intense that he could no longer sleep, he had little choice. He agreed to use his mouth on Jean Luc in exchange for the huge monthly sum, plus referrals for two years.

  Unfortunately, Jean Luc fell deeply in love with him. Even worse, he convinced himself th
at Gastien felt the same way. When it was made evident that was not the case, Jean Luc raised the stakes higher. He set Gastien up: a beautiful studio in Montmartre, completely his, in exchange for performing those same sexual services with five of Jean Luc’s amis.

  Once again, Gastien refused; however, by this time he had been used many times by one man. He had reasoned that five more and one night would not make a huge difference, and so he agreed. It was the only way he would ever have the security of owning his own studio, of possibly ending the nightmares. The wealthy of France made damn sure the poor could never own property.

  He sat now, sweating and shaking, thinking about those five men: Sébastien, Thierry, Rémy, Gérard and René. Despite Jean Luc’s promise that he would only have to use his mouth, it had gone horribly wrong. They had blockaded Jean Luc out of the room; then all five cruelly raped him after putting drugs in his vin. The abuse had gone on for hours, with Gastien being used by each of them more than once.

  Sébastien had been the cruelest. That man was downright evil. In the morning, Sébastien had taken a knife and sauntered over to Gastien, who was still lying naked on the floor. He had decided to castrate Gastien. Thankfully, the others had stopped the cruel act just in time.

  Many times over the years he would hear their voices; the things they said to him while he was being used. In addition, he had never forgotten their faces. Those faces routinely visited him during sleep. He had thought he was finding a way to end the nightmare about living on the streets, a way to have the security of his own home and studio. In fact, although he did end up with his home and studio, he had traded one nightmare for another.

  That was a major reason he had felt that he should not allow a woman to get close to him. What shame she would feel if she ever found out what he had done! Not to mention the fact that they might look for him again. If they found a woman with him, what might they also do to her?

  Gastien forced the thoughts of those men away. That was over and in the past. He meant nothing to them, other than one night of brutal cruelty and savage entertainment.

  A month had been spent in a cottage by the sea, trying to come to grips with what had happened; and hoping to heal both physically and emotionally. He had thought he had done so, until the new nightmare started showing up after settling in Montmartre. Still, he had enjoyed many good times and lots of happiness over the past twenty-three years.

  Gastien stood up. Mon Dieu, he was hung over! His damn head still pounded painfully. Well, he was just going to ignore it, and move on with the day. It was time to paint something to be proud of again. It had been too long! First, though, he decided to make himself presentable, since he sat right by the large window where passersby could see him.

  He went out back to relieve himself. Next he washed his face and underarms at the pump. He would bathe later, before going out tonight. For Gastien knew without a doubt that he would, once again, be going out. He could not stand to be alone anymore at night.

  After brushing his teeth, he quickly shaved; then brushed his long, dark hair. Coming midway down his back, it was still a source of pride to him. There were now a few stands of grey throughout. He tied it back with a leather strap.

  Pouring a new cup of coffee, he sat down to paint. He had a good two and a half hours before it would be noon.

  Looking outside once more, he watched the artists painting at Place du Tertre. He could see the back of Mic’s head, the reddish gold hair, as Mic stood painting yet another Montmartre scene. His heart was full of love for his ami. Mic had stood by him through everything.

  What a time the two of us have had in our beautiful, creative, bohemian Montmartre, he thought. There would never be another place quite like it…

  19th Century Montmartre (1855-1899)

  The village of Montmartre was in the process of great change when Gastien arrived there to make his home. While it still maintained some of its village innocence in the 1870’s, that would soon change. Never in the history of the world has there been such a gathering of true artistic genius, either before or since. Nor have there been many other times in history when so much freedom was allowed.

  Drugs like cocaine, hashish and opium were not only prevalent, they were legal. In fact, by the end of the nineteenth century, the Montmartre and Paris areas would have over 1,500 opium dens operating legally. Cheap vin rouge, absinthe, brandy, and whiskey were also plentiful; dozens of cafes and cabarets were open all night. Prostitution was rampant, offering both females and males for rent. Lesbians and homosexuals also found Montmartre a place where they could live without fear. Everyone – and almost everything – was accepted in this rural village.

  Montmartre was technically made the 18th arrondissement of Paris in 1860, but for all intents and purposes it remained independent of the city. The people certainly maintained that they were not a part of Paris! This independent attitude fostered much political unrest and nonconformist living.

  When the “reconstructing of Paris" began, it drove the artists out of the city and into outlying areas, where they could afford rents. Montmartre was particularly appealing because it had no taxes and a nunnery that produced cheap vin rouge. Although Montmartre did not have running water, gas lighting, or any of the niceties that were beginning to be common in Paris, it did have picturesque views of Paris because of being on the highest hill. It also had plenty of light, which was coveted by artists. Although there were some cobblestone streets, most were dirt roads. Steep stone stairs climbed to the various streets until reaching the top of the hill.

  Many artists had studios or worked around the community of Montmartre: Dali, Modigliani, Monet, Cézanne, Picasso, and Vincent van Gogh; Matisse, Derain, Valadon, Renoir, Degas, Utrillo, and Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, to name a few. Groups of artists such as Les Nabis and the Incoherents were formed. Not all of these artists were in Montmartre at the same time; however, over a span of about fifty years this area gave “birth” to more world famous artists than any other area in history.

  At any café in Montmartre who might one find? Everyone! There were artists, writers, bourgeois and gentry out on a lark; prostitutes, pimps, thieves, circus performers, and anarchists; all sitting side by side. The young grisettes, girls of their late teens and twenties who were working as seamstresses or at other jobs, were tasting freedom from traditional female roles for the first time. They were not afraid to dine at restaurants, drink in cabarets, or take lovers.

  The majority of “bohemians” (as the Montmartre artists were called) were anything but attractive. Most of them lived in tenements with no heat and no water, along with plenty of lice, rats, and roaches. Many people described some of the artist’s homes as more trash heaps than buildings. One artist was even known to have gone to a doctor because his ear was bothering him, only to find out that his ear was being used as a nest for bedbugs!

  Those facts did not stop women from sleeping with the artists. Nor were only grisettes were interested in sex with them. Creative types have always appealed to vast numbers of women. Perhaps this is because they seem alternately wild and sensitive, or maybe it is because the women think they need some “tender loving care”. The reason did not matter to these nineteenth century artists. They were just happy to have sex available as often as they wanted it! Sex gave them a short interlude during which they could forget about the misery they were usually surrounded with while trying to paint or write.

  Gastien had experienced worse poverty than most while living in the alleys of Paris. He had no desire to live in one of those communal apartments and experience poverty again. Many “artists” actually came from bourgeois families. They could go home or get money if times got tough.

  That was not the case for Gastien. He was truly pursuing the dream of becoming a full time artist. His studio meant everything to him, and he would work hard at his art for the rest of his life. Unfortunately, because his visions were far ahead of even the Impressionists and Les Nabis, most of his work would never be appreciated by the
public.

  There were still a lot of windmills in Montmartre during this time. One famous windmill sat on the property of the Moulin de la Galette. At the top of the hill, Moulin de la Galette drew people from all over Paris to dance and drink. The famous Moulin Rouge would open in 1889 at the bottom of the hill, when Gastien was 33.

  One of the two most popular places to go in art circles was Au Lapin Agile. Opened in the 1850’s, it had been known as Cabaret Des Assassins, because the owner’s son was murdered on the premises. In 1875 an artist named André Gill (pronounced like Jill) painted a sign, a rabbit wearing a chef’s hat and jumping out of a frying pan, on the outside of the building. This was in reference to a delicious rabbit dish that was featured on the menu. The place then became known as Le Lapin a Gill (Gill’s rabbit). The name quickly morphed into Au Lapin Agile.

  Au Lapin Agile was known as one of the roughest places in Montmartre during Gastien’s life, which, considering the lack of restraint in the village, says a whole lot. The artists were given free rein to paint, write, drink, get high, whore, and fight. Police would not be called. If they had no money, they could exchange a painting for a meal; if any passed out, they were left alone to wake up and leave when they wished. People from all social classes went there because all kinds of exciting things happened at Au Lapin Agile. You were as likely to sit next an outlaw Waggoner, with his huge knife plunged into the wooden tabletop, as you were to sit next to an artist!

  Le Chat Noir was another very important place for artistic types. The owner, Rodolphe Salis, was an artist; the son of a wealthy brewer. When he moved to Montmartre other artists flocked to his apartment to talk, smoke, and show their work.

  At first these were weekly meetings, with Salis providing drinks. Gastien would start going there right from the beginning. This was “the place to go” because all of the most creative, wittiest men showed up there. They put on shows for each other, wrote songs, and sang together (many of the songs were satirical and disrespectful of the bourgeois). Many discussions about art were heard over glasses of vin.

  The crowd got so large that Salis bought the building next door, opening Chat Noir shortly after Gastien’s 26th birthday. Although it was also known as one of the raunchier cabarets, once again people from all social classes came together with one goal: having a good time. The list of “who’s who” at Chat Noir would rival any restaurant in Paris.